


Not My Type

by keepshepardsafe



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 19:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14385444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keepshepardsafe/pseuds/keepshepardsafe
Summary: Cullen is worried about the Inquisitor just after the destruction at Haven. When he checks on her he finds he isn't the only one concerned for her well being. Though his intentions are purely romantic.





	Not My Type

_After the destruction of Haven, Mel Trevelyan trudges through the snow and is finally found by her advisors._

He couldn’t stop pacing, his mind raced with everything that had happened over the last few hours. He glanced at the tent where Mel seemed to be resting but the mark on her hand sparked angrily. Pained expressions danced all over her face which made his heart ache. _Go to her. No don’t. Yes. No._ He remembered her face so clearly when she decided she would stay in Haven to ensure everyone else escaped. He remembered his desire to reach out, grab her hand, and tell her he needs to see her again. _And there she is, with the impossible once again behind her. Go to her._

Cullen took a deep breath and walked over to her tent. He greeted Mother Giselle who tended to the other wounded. He looked down at Mel, her muscles twitched with intensity and her jaw was clenched. The mark glowed its sickly green. Cullen rubbed the back of his neck and observed his surroundings to see if anyone was watching him. He knelt down beside her and clasped her cursed hand between his, “You managed to make it out after all, Herald,” he smiled slightly, “Perhaps the Maker did send you,” he whispered to himself. He wasn’t certain, but she seemed to relax, at least the mark had ceased its exhausting release of energy even if just for a moment. But maybe he only saw what he wanted to see.

“Am I interrupting, Commander?” Cullen pulled his hands away from hers and put them his behind his back. He stood swiftly and felt his face turn hot, he could only imagine how red he must appear.

“Solas,” Cullen exuded his commanding voice, “I did not hear you approach.”

Solas, calm as always, “Relax, Commander. I am only here to check on your Herald.”

He walked closer to Mel and knelt beside her. Cullen stayed standing, looking down at Solas, watching the way he held her hand. Cullen felt his stomach knot; _Calm yourself. He is only trying to help. But what if this means more?_ He felt foolish for letting himself feel anything for the Herald. _Even if she isn’t The Herald of Andraste, she is more than you ever deserve._

“How is her hand?” Cullen asked, pushing his thoughts away.

“Stable, I think. Not nearly as bad as when she emerged from the Fade.” Solas responded without looking away from Mel. He continued to turn her hand back and forth like he was searching for something more. Cullen understood Solas’s interest in the mark but he seemed to go into a trance each time he studied it.

“Good,” Cullen returned, placing his right hand behind his head, “You two have gotten close since she woke up, I’m glad she has someone to help her through this.” It was no secret to Cullen, or the rest of the Inquisition, that Mel Trevelyan and Solas had a strong bond. They were often seen walking together in Haven talking and laughing. She always turned to Solas for counsel regarding the breach and the Inquisition. Even when Solas actively avoided everyone else he always had time for Mel.

“Please, Commander,” Solas said in amusement and stood to face Cullen, “The Herald and I are friends. We are close, yes. But she is hardly my type.”

Cullen felt a little insulted, “Not your type? Strong, witty, and beautiful women aren’t your type?” The words spilled out of Cullen’s mouth and he hadn’t registered what he was saying.

Solas let out a full-on laugh, a rarity in Cullen’s experience, “Perhaps it is you, Commander, who fancies the Herald.” Solas smirked at Cullen and left him to hide his bashful face with ease.

Cullen looked back at Mel— _Maker, I hope she didn’t hear any of that_. He grabbed a blanket off of an empty cot and draped it over her body. Cullen smiled and gently touched her shoulder, “Rest well, Mel. We will see you soon. The Inquisition needs you now more than ever.” He walked out of the tent and joined the other advisors who were already arguing about their next steps. 


End file.
